Montparnasse fingered the money in his pocket, scowling as the coins clinked together with each step. He was thinking of all the things he could have bought—food, finery, or a female—and was giving up on her behalf.
He knew he should not have become so involved. He knew he should not have come to her so often. He wished he had used her once and cast her aside, as he had done to so many others.
No, not Montparnasse. He had to come back. It was the pleasure of using the money he had so often set aside for female company to buy a new suit that had pleased him. After all, Éponine's services were free, provided her father was allowed the right to summon the Patron-Minette for the sake of his own little exploits. She had been an option for any of the gang—until Montparnasse had ruined it.
He arrived at the garret apartment and knocked irritably. The mother opened the door.
"Well," she said politely, "has it been a month already?"
Montparnasse nodded grimly. "I have money. As we agreed, thirty percent of all my lone jobs."
The woman moved away from the door. "Come in, come in," she insisted. "Éponine will want to see you."
Though he personally disagreed, Montparnasse entered the apartment obediently.
Both of the tiny boys were home—their elder brother, Gavroche, had not been seen in months—and Éponine was seated on one of the lumpy mattresses, cradling the youngest, perhaps a year old, in her lap. She glanced up at Montparnasse with glazed, emotionless eyes. He curled his lip.
"I shall leave the money on the table."
Éponine said nothing, turning back to the little child. Montparnasse emptied his pocket and turned to go, but spun about halfway to the door and approached Éponine.
"Well, how is he?" He squatted by the bed and peered at the sleeping child.
Éponine scowled, still saying nothing.
"He's doing well, thanks to you, m'sieur," the mother said from the doorway.
Montparnasse did not turn around, keeping his eyes on the child. "Is that true?" he asked Éponine.
Still she would not speak to him.
Sighing, Montparnasse heaved himself to his feet and turned to go.
"He won't have your name," Éponine said suddenly.
Montparnasse stopped. "What?"
"He won't have your name," she repeated. "He's going to be my brother. I'll never tell him."
"It doesn't matter to me," Montparnasse lied. He continued to the door.
The mother saw him out. "We'll see you in a month," she called after him.
"A month," Montparnasse agreed.
He left as quickly as he could.